The Woman in the Journey
by serenitymeimei
Summary: Post CM's S5/NCIS S7. Ziva sets out on vacation thinking that the world is her oyster. Enter a severe storm, a beautiful stranger and only one motel room to share between them.


**Disclaimer:** If either of these shows were mine, neither of the ladies would be wasting their time on wayward men. *shudders* They'd totally be sharking the hot women from the menfolk right under their noses.

**A/N:** Prompted by _cherokee62_ months ago, and I've finally managed to finish it. Enjoy, sweetie! Also, let's just pretend for the sake of this story that Emily is straight (lol, right? but throw in a little helping of bi curiosity involving JJ for old times sake, okies?) and isn't a closeted lesbian like she is on the show..

* * *

Ziva was on vacation.

Getting time off hadn't been a problem. In fact, Director Vance had pretty much told her to enjoy herself and not bother showing up for at least a month. She distinctly remembers things like, _'a year's worth of sick days built up'_ and _'you're just as bad as Gibbs'_ and _'your clearance will be revoked while you're gone, so don't even think about trying to come home early'_ being said, and instead of being mildly insulted (like she should have been) she was excited. So she packed her bags, stowed them in the safety of her trunk during the last workday of the week, and before she knew it she was making her way toward Breton Bay, Maryland with a smile on her face, the windows down and her music blaring at a decibel loud enough that would make even Abby proud.

But what could possibly be in Breton Bay, you ask? The short answer was, McGee. The long one is that his little sister Sarah had just graduated from college and, via her request, he'd gone back home to spend some time with her in celebration. But once Ziva picked him up they were heading out on a three week book tour- a first for him, something that he'd quietly admitted being nervous about over paperwork and bad Chinese one night late last week. So when he'd called her a few days ago in a mild panic, she hadn't thought twice about accepting his invitation.

The closer she got to her destination though, the worse the weather became. First the temperature had dropped and the clouds darkened. Then the wind started gusting so strongly that every few minutes the car would shift out of her lane as she drove down unfamiliar highways. But just as the sun began to sink below the horizon...that's when the rain started.

Ziva _hated_ rain.

The last time she'd driven through a storm so severe she'd been in Africa, where a flash flood had swept her, and her stolen car, off the road. She'd almost drowned because of a defective seatbelt, stupidly having gotten into the habit of wearing it over in the States. But the real nightmare had begun twelve hours later. Her body had been so sore that she hadn't heard Salim's men sneak up on her and in the dead of night, carrying her off to face three months of unspeakable torture. So she figures that she has a legitimate reason to be a bit unnerved, right?

Sighing, she flipped the defroster on and tried to shake it off, sending a pointed glare at the annoying GPS on the dash when it instructed her (with that snooty, holier than thou voice) to take a left at the next intersection.

"Only twenty more miles," Ziva whispered to herself, feeling her jaw tighten with wavering determination, "I can do this."

The next fifteen minutes passed by slowly. Thick sheets of rain fell in fast succession, gradually dimming the headlights reach. White and yellow lines began blurring with pavement and she felt her fingers tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles almost white, carefully trying to navigate her way through twists and turns.

That's when she spotted it- a yellow flash in the distance.

Her heart raced, foot easing off of the gas. Blinking, she searched the darkness with bated breath. Had it just been the flicker of her lights hitting an animal's eyes? A road sign swaying dangerously in the wind? Then it happened again- and again. The closer she got, the more confused she became. Until it finally dawned on her exactly what it was...

Hazard lights.

A weight lifted off of her. She felt ridiculous. How could something as small as water falling out of the sky have her on edge?

Now normally, Ziva wasn't one to help a stranger when she saw them broken down on the side of the road- it was a dangerous deed to practice, even in her world- but if it were her stuck in such a position, she'd hope that someone would try and help out... so, throwing caution to the wind, she decided to stop.

Pressing on the brake, she pulled up parallel to the dark SUV and rolled the passenger side window down. A shadowed figure peeked out from beneath the popped hood and scurried toward her car a few seconds later. She prayed that this didn't turn out like the plot of one of Tony's horror movies.

"Hey," a female voice said gratefully, "thanks for stopping. I would've just called a tow truck, but cell service is pretty spotty out here."

Ziva sighed in relief, letting herself relax a little, "Not a problem. Do you need a ride?"

"Really?" the woman grinned, "That would be great. I'm staying at a hotel about twenty minutes down the road. Is that out of your way?"

"Not at all. I should be going right by it."

"Fantastic. Just let me grab my things."

The woman's name turned out to be Emily and, after exchanging niceties, there was only the rhythm of the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth and the sound of rain falling with more insistently against the roof left between them. Even in the darkness though, Ziva could see that her features were incredibly striking- soaked jet black hair, strong features and pale skin. She was beautiful. Nearly ten minutes into the drive though, the novelty of having a passenger was beginning to wear off, and her nerves were settling back in. Something needed to change.

"Do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?"

The woman startled, watching her with a careful eye before clearing her throat, "Would you believe me if I said that I worked for the FBI?"

Ziva's eyes briefly left the road, not the best idea she'd ever had but she did it anyway, taking in the slight bulge of a gun at Emily's right hip and the way she angled herself in the passenger seat (toward her, just enough to gain the advantage if a fight occurred). Yeah, she believed it. She should've seen it sooner though.

"I would."

Emily continued, "And that I got lost on my way back to the Leonardtown PD?"

"I've seen maps of this area and I imagine that it is hard to get lost in Leonardtown, is it not?"

"Yeah well," she heard her chuckle softly, "the GPS was broken and I had to interview a grieving family... It's just been one of those days, you know?"

Ziva nodded, "So you're FBI? Do you know an Agent Fornell?"

"Who doesn't? The bastard is legendary."

This time it was Ziva's turn to laugh, "There is one in every bushel, yes?"

"You mean bunch?"

"Eh, potato/potahto," she shrugged, still grinning.

"So, are you FBI too?"

She shook her head, finding herself becoming more at ease as they found common ground, "NCIS."

"Navy cop?" the surprise was clear in her voice, "Wouldn't have pegged that one... Now Mossad on the other hand, _that _I would have seen coming. You're Israeli, right?"

Ziva was impressed. She's good.

"Yes, I was raised in Tel Aviv."

"Really?" Emily sighed wistfully, "My mother moved us there when I was eight. I haven't had a chance to go back since. Is it still as gorgeous as I remember?"

Ziva slowed the car as she rounded a corner, turning the wipers on as high as they could go. Visibility was really starting to become a problem.

She sighed wearily, "War has certainly taken its toll over the years, but yes- it is still very beautiful."

"When was the last time you went home?"

The muscles in the back of her throat tightened against her will, sending her heart beating just a little bit faster. Flashes of her Father assaulted her; him lying to her about Ari and then later about Michael, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face as he forced her to kiss his cheek under the guise of familial duty, sending her off to her death with a wave of his hand like she was just another bug to be squashed.

Ziva frowned, shifting in her seat, "My home is here, now."

Emily's gaze bored into her, she could feel it burning her skin, invasive and questioning. It made her uncomfortable, but not so much that she wanted to tell her to stop, and if she were honest with herself she'd admit that she was actually a bit curious to hear what this Emily woman's reaction would be. Her perceptiveness intrigued Ziva.

Seconds ticked by and she slowed the car down even further, heavy silence hanging between them.

"Sorry," the other woman began, apologizing softly, "I didn't mean to pry,"

"It's alright."

Ziva was surprised to find that she truly meant it. There was no way that Emily could've known about the ghosts that her question would dredge up, but she was still grateful when, somewhere far off in the distance, she spotted a blurry lit up sign and felt herself releasing a shaky breath. Finally, salvation. She needed to get out of her car and compose herself, claustrophobia was beginning to set in and the rain was only making it worse.

"Is that where you're staying?" she asked, changing the subject. No need to dwell on such things, right?

Emily nodded, "I don't know how much further you have to travel, but you should see if there are any rooms left. The storm is getting worse."

"I don't know," Ziva shrugged noncommittally, "maybe."

Pulling into the parking lot a few minutes later she came to a stop in front of the main office, debating her options. Stay and remain dry and cozy in a warm bed, or drive the thirty minutes that it would take to get to her destination in hazardous, terrifying (though she'd never admit it) weather... She sighed, it seems that there wouldn't be much debate after all. She'd take four walls over a deathtrap on wheels any day.

"You know, you're right. Getting a room does sound like a smart idea."

Turning, she saw a bright smile form on Emily's lips and her stomach flipped, something that hadn't happened in a very long time. It caught her off guard, making her pause as she took the keys out of the ignition and watch as the other woman grab her things out of the backseat before rushing through the downpour to the safety of the covered porch just outside of the main door.

Maybe it was just a fluke?

Ziva let out a shaky breath, her eyes still trained on Emily as she turned and motioned for her to follow with a lazy tilt of her head. The gesture was casual, but it left her feeling oddly content, the corners of her mouth flicking upward in a small grin.

Fluke? _Right. _

* * *

"What do you _mean_ there aren't any rooms available?"

The night manager, a pimply faced boy not much older than eighteen, nearly shook out of his $5 holey sneakers from his place behind the front desk, "I-I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's only fifteen rooms...and with the FBI here, we're b-b-booked solid."

Ziva growled, a small part of her pleased to see the boy's eyes widen, shying away from her as much as the wall behind him would allow. At least she hadn't gone completely soft. She could still strike fear into the hearts of- well, you get the point. But then she felt a small hand touch her lower back, stopping her from laying into the kid again and _forcing_ him into giving her a room using the magical power that normally came with wearing a badge, even if it meant bumping one of the other guests.

She tensed, her mouth half open, words like, _'don't'_ and _'stop'_ and then _'oh my god, don't stop'_ on the tip of her tongue as she felt that same hand begin rubbing soothing circles into her spine.

"Why don't you just stay with me," Emily offered.

It sounded innocent enough but, with a palm on Ziva's back and the subtle (probably-not-going-to-do-anything-about-it-because-they-just-met) attraction that she was feeling toward Emily, she wasn't so sure.

"I couldn't impose..."

Deceivingly strong fingers, probably from years of pulling a trigger out in the field and on the range, pressed just a little bit harder against her and she nearly moaned, swaying slightly where she stood.

"It's not a problem at all," Emily chuckled, "Consider it my way of returning the favor."

She's a little ashamed to say it, but that's all it really took to convince her. She craved the companionship, platonic or otherwise, ever since Tony, McGee and Gibbs had brought her back from Africa- brought her home. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but like most everything else in her life, she'd learned to live with it.

"You're sure," she questioned one last time, just to be polite, and Emily nodded, "Alright, but I'll have to call my friend and tell him I won't arrive until morning."

"Not a problem," Emily smiled.

Picking up her forgotten bag, Ziva allowed herself to arch against the woman's steady hand, figuring that one tiny indulgence wouldn't hurt, "Lead the way?"

With nothing more than a shared grin and a well placed arch of her eyebrow, they left the very confused- and probably very relieved- teenage boy at the desk and made their way toward the rickety old elevator at the back of the small lobby.

This was certainly going to be an interesting evening. If the tension didn't kill her first, that is.

* * *

"Yes, McGee," she chuckled, holding a clunky, old phone up to her ear, "I'm alright... No, I'm staying with the woman that I picked up... Yes, I'm sure it's safe! She's FBI... She knows Fornell, is that not proof enough?... McGee! She is _not_ going to_ 'whack'_ me in my sleep. I will be perfectly fine... Tell Sarah that I'm excited to see her as well, it has been far too long since we've had the chance to talk... Alright, if it will make you feel better, I will. Goodnight, Tim. See you in the morning."

Amused, Ziva rolled her eyes and shook her head, setting the phone back in its cradle. She adored that man, trusted him with her life and considered him her closest friend, but sometimes he was a little too overprotective for his own good.

"All set?" Emily sauntered back into the room, her arms full of vending machine snacks.

Ziva tried not to stare.

"Yes, thank you," she grinned, choosing to settle on the end of the bed instead and rifle through the pile of goodies until she found a few things that seemed appetizing, "Just as I suspected though, he was about to send out the troops, as you would say, yes? He even advised me to sleep with a gun under my pillow just in case you decided to murder me at some point in the night."

Emily snorted, sucking a bit of chocolate off of her finger, "You're kidding, right?"

Ziva groaned inwardly, looking up just in time to see a flash of pink tongue flutter around the digit before she popped it out of her mouth, clean of the sugary substance.

She blinked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Ziva thought she saw the older woman smirk.

"I said, _'You're kidding'_... You know, about the gun beneath your pillow?"

"We find ourselves in trouble more often than not," she popped open a bag of chips, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, "His worries are not unwarranted."

"Our team is the same way," Emily replied with a sad smile, the same smile that Ziva had seen so many times before from different people in different hospital beds, "One of us always has some kind of work related injury, or at least it seems that way."

The sobered her, Ziva's brow furrowing as she contemplated her next action with great care. In the end, she decided to reach across the gap between them, resting her hand on Emily's forearm in a comforting gesture.

"It's unfortunate, but it is a part of the job, no?"

Emily's gaze fell to the floor, "It's the only part that I don't like."

"That makes two of us," she admitted quietly.

Looking up for under her lashes, Emily met her gaze with uncertainty. Ziva wasn't quite sure why, but it broke her heart seeing such sadness on her face. No one that beautiful should be so torn apart inside. So, she took a chance. With her free hand, she swept a small patch of dark locks behind Emily's ear and allowed herself the simple pleasure of caressing the woman's cheek. She should've stopped herself, she knew that, pulled away and grinned shyly, made up some excuse. It was too much, too soon and she didn't want to push this woman away. But her skin was so soft and warm, blushing a pale pink under her scrutiny, and she found it endearing. So she did it again, and again until a crooked finger found its way under Emily's chin, lifting her head back up.

The air in the room seemed to heat instantly, crackling with tension as two sets of deep brown eyes met. Emily's gaze dropped briefly down to her mouth and Ziva found herself gasping quietly at the implication. Her pulse quickened, stomach clenching in desire. It had been so long since she felt the touch of a lover, even something as simple as a kiss. She needed it, desired it, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in someone.

Leaning forward, she hesitated when she felt warm breath puff across her chin, seeking permission with a tilt of her head, waiting for an answer.

Emily timidly smiled back, her eyes dark with passion, hesitating just long enough to drive Ziva into action and slowly close the space between them. Their lips fluttered across one another, the lightest of touches. Just enough for her to taste the cherry lip balm that Emily favored, to feel the barest amount of pressure as they leaned into each other and began to deepen the kiss. Their heads tilted, her fingertips tangling in damp hair, drawing a moan out of Emily as their tongues met for the first time.

The phone rang.

Jumping apart, Ziva felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment, her companion however, stood shakily and shot across the room.

"Hello?..." she cleared her throat, listening intently as she wrapped one arm protectively around her body, just under her breasts, "Yeah Hotch, she's here with me for the night... Alright, I'll ask her... Yeah, it's all in the file... Okay, I'll call you tomorrow if there's any problems... Night."

Hanging up the receiver, Ziva watched her through the reflection of a large mirror that hung just above the desk. Emily took a deep, steadying breath and stilled her shaking hand by rubbing the back of her neck.

"That was my boss," she explained, still facing away from her, "Would, uh- would you be able to give me a ride to the local mechanic in the morning? A wrecker just towed my SUV there and it should be ready by the time you head out."

Sighing softly, saddened that Emily couldn't seem to turn around or even meet her eyes, she agreed, "That would be fine."

She'd really fucked this one up, hadn't she?

"Thank you."

A few beats passed. Both of them on opposite sides of the room, shifting uncomfortably.

Emily finally turned, breaking the awkward silence, "Well, I think I'm gonna jump in the shower. Do you need to use the bathroom?"

Their gazes met accidentally, and Ziva tried to reassure her with a warm, subdued smile. It only seemed to help a small amount, releasing a visible amount of tension in her shoulders, but not all of it. At least she tried.

"No, I'm fine. Go ahead."

"Alright," she grabbed a few articles of clothing and some toiletries out of the nearby dresser, "I'll be out in a few minutes. Make yourself at home."

And then she was alone.

Rubbing a weary hand over her face, she closed her eyes, trying to massage the tension out of her forehead and temples. It wasn't working.

There she was, sitting in a stranger's motel room, on the only bed (a modest, double size with a pale blue comforter and white sheets), and for the first time since arriving, she fully grasped just how long of a night it was going to be...

She'd made her bed, so to speak, and now she had to lie in it.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Ziva had changed into her pajamas and was laying on her side under the covers, watching the rain as it pounded relentlessly against the window. Emily was still in the shower and the sound of water falling heavily against the bottom of the tub filled the tiny room with sound. It was distracting, making Ziva's belly warm and tighten as the image of Emily bathing formed in her mind- lathering up her hair, rubbing soap into every inch of skin, suds flowing down her body as she rinsed. It was more than enough to send her imagination running wild.

She rubbed her legs together, trying to ease the pressure between her thighs, but Ziva should've known better- that only made things worse. Groaning, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, clenching the bedding in her fists. How in the hell was she supposed to sleep in the same bed with this woman and not ravage her? It was going to be next to impossible, torturous even, but she had to resist. Clearly she'd frightened Emily by kissing her, and she was fairly certain that mauling the poor thing in her sleep would complicate things even more.

So, Ziva shut her eyes, adjusting the pillow beneath her head until she was comfortable enough to relax and willed herself to take deep, even breaths. In and out, over and over again until she drifted in and out of consciousness. She must of fallen asleep at some point though, because the next thing she knew the room was plunged into darkness and the bed dipped as Emily slipped quietly in beside her.

They laid there together, minutes passing by slowly, with only a few inches of space between them. It was late, approaching 1am, and the obnoxious sounds of a forgotten television left on in the room above them floated down through the thin ceiling.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

Ziva felt Emily jump, the sudden intrusion of the silence startling her, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," she sighed, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, "I know that I've made you uncomfortable..."

"You didn't. Not exactly, anyway."

Ziva's brow furrowed in confusion, turning her head to look at her directly this time. What does that mean?

"I don't understand."

Emily sighed, the blankets rustling as she found a more comfortable position. Their arms accidentally brushed against each other, a lingering yet brief touch. It made Ziva long to find her again, to reconnect, but she held back. Instead, she dug her fingers into the mattress, trying to ignore the tingling sensation left rippling across her skin, and waited patiently for Emily to elaborate.

"It wasn't you," she started, biting her bottom lip nervously, "I've never- I mean... you _kissed_ me, Ziva."

"Yes, I did."

Ziva turned onto her side, one arm underneath her pillow, her knees accidentally pressing against Emily's thigh. She thought about scooting back, trying to limit their contact, but quickly dismissed the idea when she saw the other woman's lashes flutter shut in response, her mouth falling open in a silent moan.

A few beats passed.

"_Why_, though?"

"Why not?"

Ziva's simple question hung heavily between them and she could see the proverbial gears turning in Emily's head.

"Would you do it again?"

"You want me to kiss you?" Emily nodded and Ziva propped her head up in her hand, looking down at her with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure? I do not want you to regret it."

"I was sure the first time," Emily finally met her gaze, unwavering, "I freaked out, but it wasn't because of you."

"What was it, then? What upset you so much?" Ziva reached out in an attempt to soothe her, her hand hovering awkwardly in the air, "May I?"

Emily smiled up at her and guided Ziva's hand down to the side of her face, humming quietly as she nuzzled her palm briefly before letting go, allowing Ziva to do as she pleased. She gently brushed wet bangs from her forehead, her thumb dragging across one eyebrow and down the to apple of her cheek.

"Tell me," she urged softly, but still, Emily hesitated, "I will not judge you, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that, I just- I don't know where to start."

Ziva smiled and traced one finger down her jaw, exploring freely, "From the beginning, I imagine."

"Well," she began, taking a deep breath, "her name is Jennifer..."

* * *

Four hours later, Ziva woke just as the sun was beginning to show itself over the horizon. Her arms were wrapped loosely around a warm body, their back nestled flush against her torso, and she hadn't felt so comfortable in many years.

Last night they'd spent nearly an hour talking about Emily's co-worker, and how she'd thought that something had been going on between them- describing the flirting and the touches and the lingering glances- only to find out in the end that this JJ woman had been secretly dating a detective and wound up becoming pregnant by him. Ziva had done her best to console her, holding her in her arms and listening as she laid everything out for her, but it was a well known fact that she'd never been very good with crying women. Thankfully though, it turns out all that Emily needed was a sympathetic ear and a box of Kleenex, and that she could provide. It was always easier to tell your darkest secrets to a complete stranger, right?

So once she calmed down, Ziva ended up running her fingers through Emily's hair, whispering the tale of her own first experience with love and a girl named Hannah. Emphasizing how the short, but sweet, relationship had ended with her streaking across the courtyard at her boarding school after the girl had stolen all over clothing, just to make Emily laugh. It was worth it. But by the time her story was finished it was late. Exhaustion had set in, and Ziva was grateful that they seemed to be comfortable enough with one another to not pussyfoot around, simply curling themselves into the other before falling asleep.

Moaning quietly she stretched her legs, a beam of sunlight warming her back as she sleepily nuzzled the other woman's hair aside just enough to drop a fleeting kiss on her shoulder. She'd fully intended on going back to sleep, wanting nothing more than to press her forehead against the side of Emily's neck and drift back into a deep slumber as she listened to the songs of morning birds chirping just outside of their window, but somehow she'd managed to rouse the woman in her arms and it seemed as if she wasn't going to get the chance.

Fingers tightened over hers, Emily's neck arching the tiniest bit to give her more access, tugging her arm more tightly around her waist.

"What time is it?" she groaned.

Ziva didn't even bother looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand, "Too early. Go back to sleep."

Closing her eyes she settled into a comfortable position, surprised when only seconds later, the hand that had been resting over the general safety Emily's tank top was suddenly guided underneath the material and onto the (not-so-safe) smooth skin of her stomach. Emily's breath hitched and Ziva's lips parted in awe, allowing the other woman to guide her palm up toward her chest until it rested just below her breasts.

"What if I don't want to?"

"Do not tempt me, Emily," Ziva warned, palm flattening until it spread across her ribs, her fingers itching glide up those last few tantalizing inches, "Not unless you are certain about what you're getting yourself into."

Emily turned in her arms, her eyes sliding open just in time to see a naughty grin on the woman's face before she was tugged forward into a quick and dirty kiss, "Certain enough for you?"

Ziva's entire body shivered, the huskiness in Emily's voice sending warmth pooling low in her stomach. Their eyes met, lingering for only a few seconds before she nodded her consent and those soft lips were pressed against hers again.

From there it was mostly a blur. All hands and lips and tongues, and hot skin meeting for the first time as clothes were shed and dropped to the floor.

She marveled in the experience, seeing it through Emily's eyes, discovering something new around every corner. Like her reaction when Ziva's thigh wormed it's way between hers, head reared back in pleasure, and the delicious feeling of blunt nails digging into her back. But most of all, Ziva loved that little sound she made in the back of her throat- when their hips ground together, her lips finally latching onto Emily's pebbled breast- it was heady and dangerous. A moan that only she was privy to. And the only other thing that seemed to compare was the look on Emily's face when nimble fingers fluttered down her stomach and slid between her legs, encompassing her in an indescribable wetness and heat.

It was absolutely perfect, and Emily- well, she was a sight to behold. Dark eyes squeezed tightly shut, a wild mane of hair haloed around her on the pillow, her jaw dropping open in a silent keen. Using her leg as leverage, Ziva didn't give her time to adjust, only pausing for a moment to observe her before pressing forward. She pulled out all of the stops, curling and scissoring her fingers as she thrust, smirking triumphantly when she finally found a rhythm that had the gorgeous woman bucking desperately beneath her, begging her for more.

The scent of sex and sweat surrounded them. Later, Ziva would remember her necklace swaying back and forth between them, cold metal tapping against her overheated skin, and just how good it felt. How it led to her grunting quietly as she tossed her hair to one side and leaned down, nipping her way across Emily's jaw and down her neck until she felt a pulse jumping beneath her lips.

Emily's hands slid down to her ass, urging her to move harder and faster. The leg that she'd been straddling bending at just the right angle, drawing a startled gasp from her as it pressed tightly against her aching groin. Her hips jerked, relief and tension flooding her as she slid across silky skin like a cat in heat. It was erotic and damn near heavenly, feeling Emily tighten around her fingers and the leg below her twitch in sympathy as she pressed forward with a newfound vigor.

Now there was nothing stopping them, rolling and sliding against each other in a barely contained frenzy, her forehead resting in the crooking of Emily's neck as the pressure built inside of her. It was blinding. White heat curling so tightly that she felt like she was on fire, leaving her so sensitive that for a moment, a few seconds at most, she was actually hesitant to continue on. But in the end, she didn't have much of a choice, her body went on without her.

Muscles clenched around Emily's thigh, clumsily grinding her palm into the woman's clit just as her vision dimmed and the sound of the mattress squeaking beneath them faded, her climax hitting her in full force.

She swore loudly, both in English and her native tongue, not caring that everyone in the damn hotel could probably hear her. Waves of pleasure rolled through her- deafening, paralyzing. Leaving her gasping for oxygen and shuddering as Emily groaned and stilled beneath her, inner muscles dancing around her as she came.

Slowly though, the world came back into view. The room was a little brighter and the forgotten television upstairs had been turned off, leaving nothing but their harsh breaths cutting into the silence of the room.

With much regret, she collapsed back onto her side, carefully sliding out of Emily before running a soothing hand over her twitching stomach.

"Wow," Emily panted, turning to look at her, "so that's what I've been missing out on?"

Ziva grinned, using the last of her strength to lean up and press a sweet kiss to her lips, "That it is."

"What the hell was I thinking?" she asked, clearly outraged, "Being straight sucks!"

This time, Ziva laughed, watching as Emily's nose scrunched up and her eyes twinkled in the morning light. The woman was completely adorable, and on anyone other than Abby she'd have found it odd that she liked it so much. But just this once, she let herself revel in that girly sense of contentment, feeling it wash over her as she cuddled up to Emily's side. Head resting on a pale shoulder, fingers gently massaged the back of her neck.

"Is there enough time to sleep?" Ziva whispered, "I find myself reluctant to move."

Emily's heart fluttered under her ear, it's beat loud and clear, "Get some rest, Ziva. I'll wake you."

Her eyes fluttered shut, letting her mind drift and her body completely relax. The last thing she remembered, is the feeling of warm blankets being pulled up over her and Emily's palm tangling with hers.

* * *

Two hours later, Emily's cellphone chirped loudly, startling them both out of a peaceful slumber.

Ziva groaned and rolled over, grabbing it from the nightstand before passing it on to the woman holding her hand out blindly for the offending object.

"Prentiss..." sitting up, she dislodged Ziva from her comfortable human-shaped pillow, "Oh, no thank you very much. I can't believe it's finished already... Yes, billed to the number that Agent Hotchner gave you last night... Okay, I'll be down in about twenty minutes. Thank you, again."

Emily ended the call and tossed the phone to the end of the bed, glaring at it indignantly.

"I guess that means our time together is coming to an end, yes?"

Reaching out for her, Ziva met Emily's hand halfway, before nodding, "I don't want it to, though."

They laid there for a few minutes, not wanting to leave their comfortable little bubble, but knowing that there was a ticking clock hanging above them.

"Pass me your phone," Ziva asked.

"What? Why?"

Rolling her eyes, she smiled and heaved herself up, retrieving it herself. Small fingers wrapping around her ankle made her look back over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows and shaking her hips enticingly when she realized what was going on.

"You're not lazy, you just wanted to stare at my ass."

"I'll admit no such thing," Emily grinned, shaking her head, "But oh what a nice ass it is..."

Uncharacteristically, Ziva whacked her leg playfully and settled the sheets around her and flipped the phone open, quickly adding her contact information before handing it back to it's owner.

"There," she grinned sadly, "Maybe it does not have to end. You never know where life will lead you. It is very likely that we will cross paths again one day."

Emily opened her phone, scrolling down to Ziva's name. Her eyes widened, "202? That's a DC area code... You work out of the Navy Yard?"

"Yes," her head cocked to the side in question, "why?"

A split second later, Ziva had an arm full of woman tackling her backward onto the bed, kiss swollen lips pressing against hers until she was gasping for breath.

"What was that for?" blinking heavily, she gathered Emily's hair in one hand so that she could see her face.

Emily smiled, leaning back down until her mouth hovered just out of her reach, "For giving me hope."

* * *

Nearly a week later, Ziva found herself driving down a North Carolina highway sometime just after midnight. McGee was sleeping in the passengers seat at her side, a stack of notes from his publisher strewn across his lap, tuckered out from all of the attention that came with spending day in Thom E. Geomcity's shoes. She was proud of him, though. He seemed to be settling into a nice routine at each signing or reading, keeping her at his side whenever possible, but he didn't rely on her as he did during the first few days. Now, they could both relax and enjoy this trip for exactly what it was.

A vacation.

Yawning, she set the mug of lukewarm coffee back in it's holder and shifted in her seat, settling in for the the last hour of their journey. Next stop, Asheville, North Carolina, where a nice hotel and warm bed was waiting for her. She couldn't wait, McGee didn't like to skip on the luxuries, and she fully intended on reveling in each and every one of them.

Exiting the highway, she followed her GPS's directions by navigating her way through suburban towns and winding back roads. The kind of roads that were too narrow for breakdown lanes and had sheer cliffs just on the other side of the guardrail, with a view that would've surely been spectacular had they been traveling during the day. But just as she was contemplating turning the radio on low, something to distract her from the boredom of ever ending road, she heard it. The spatter of a few stray raindrops hitting the windshield.

This time, she didn't panic. The fear was still there, but her heart rate only increased a fraction and her grip on the steering wheel was tight, but not strong enough to leave nail marks in the leather.

No, instead of reliving all of the torture and pain that these storms reminded her of, she thought about a woman with a wide smile and black hair. Instead, choosing to remember the sweetness of their parting kiss and the promise of a date when she got back into town.

This time, she smiled.

**End.**


End file.
